Five years ago today, I packed up the rental car and drove from my parents’ house in Portland, OR to the Canadian border. When I got to the crossing, I went inside the little building and said, “I’m here to land.”

Half an hour later, the border guard said, “Welcome to Canada.” and I was officially a landed immigrant (aka permanent resident – like having a US green card). The immigration process took us 21 months and 21 days, which was slower than some (average 19 months from the US), and much shorter than others (5+ years coming from Asia).

I was on my own when I landed because Victor was working in TN. The longterm plan was I would land, go to our house, do a bunch of remodeling, return to TN for a couple of months until his job was over, and then we’d move back and he would land. And this is pretty much exactly what happened.

The short term plan, however, did not go so well. I had directions from the border to my friend Eileen’s house in North Vancouver, where I was planning to stay the night. Eventually, after driving around lost for at least an hour, maybe more, I pulled into a park to have a look at a map. I called Eileen and no matter what landmarks I gave her, she could not figure out where I was. Finally, I decided to ask some older ladies who were returning to their car. After consultation, they told me I was so lost I better just follow them. First, the driver had to take her sister home, so I followed them to her house, then we drove the half hour through rush hour to North Van.

Once we got in the general vicinity, we pulled into the parking lot at the Capilano Suspension Bridge to ask someone for directions, but we couldn’t find anyone, so I called Eileen again, and this time she knew exactly where we were. Whew. A few minutes later, I pulled up to her house, and the woman, who insisted on seeing it through, pulled up behind me.

Here’s the really cool part of this story. The woman was also an immigrant, from some Eastern European country (I forget). She had lived in Canada for twenty-five years, and because July 1st was Canada Day, she’d bought a tiny flag for her antennae. When we were in the parking lot calling Eileen, I told her that the only way I’d been able to follow her through all that traffic was because of her flag, I could see it through the cars that got between us. She took the flag off and gave it to me to welcome me to Canada. We flew it on our truck until it was too tattered and then we saved it with other momentos. That’s it in the picture. 

For a couple of years, the woman and I exchanged letters, but then they stopped. I don’t know what happened to her, but I’m hoping she just moved. Either way, it was a very warm welcome to Canada.

Oh, and speaking of welcomes, I had a lovely dinner with Eileen and her husband Bob, and then retired to the guest room. The next day, she told me about her conversation with him in bed.

Bob: Joelle seems like a nice woman. Where did you meet her again?

Eileen: On the internet.

Bob: What? You never met her before today?

Eileen: Nope.

Bob: You invited someone you met online to stay the night with us? What if she’s an axe murderer?

Eileen: She doesn’t seem like one. You just said she was nice.

Hehehe!

Since I didn’t murder anyone in their beds, Bob thinks I’m okay now. The feeling’s mutual.

Thank you Bob & Eileen & the stranger for making me so welcome five years ago. And thank you Canada, for having me. By this time next year, we will be Canadian citizens and have even more to celebrate.